


High Up in the Sea Tower

by Myrtle



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Brief suicidal thoughts, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Gen, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28951098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrtle/pseuds/Myrtle
Summary: The priests would likely say it is not good, to sleep up here in the sky, where the Storm God holds sway, so far from their Drowned God’s domain.[Aeron, Urri, and Euron, at night and in the day.]
Relationships: Aeron "Damphair" Greyjoy & Urrigon Greyjoy, Aeron "Damphair" Greyjoy/Euron Greyjoy
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	High Up in the Sea Tower

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for brief suicidal thoughts. And, well, Euron. 
> 
> Title is from "The Forsaken":
> 
> _Have you forgotten? I would visit your bedchamber at night when I had too much to drink. You shared a room with Urrigon high up in the Sea Tower._

It is never truly silent, in their bedchamber. Up at the top of the Sea Tower, the wind is always blowing, always, always, even when it is quiet on the ground far below.

The priests would likely say it is not good, to sleep up here in the sky, where the Storm God holds sway, so far from their Drowned God’s domain. Aeron _can_ hear the sea, just barely, if he strains for it, crashing against the foot of the tower. But mostly, there is the wind.

It is especially vicious tonight, howling like a thing in pain. So loud that you might think a storm was brewing. But it won’t rain tonight, he can tell—the sky is clear, and moonlight streams in through the window, giving the room a silver glow. Aeron closes his eyes against it, though there is no real reason to. He won’t be sleeping any time soon. Neither of them will.

For they saw Euron when they left the feast, how deep in his cups he was. He had a serving girl on his lap as they slipped out, and Aeron can almost tell himself that Euron will be satisfied with her tonight. But he saw the leer Euron gave Urri as he slid a hand down the front of her dress, and he knows. Neither he nor Urri said anything about it—they never do—but they both know, as they lie there, silent in their separate beds but wide awake, listening to the wind and each other’s breath.

Aeron wonders why he can’t surrender to sleep. It’s Urri who has reason to fear, after all, not him. It’s Urri who is the focus of Euron’s attention, while Aeron is only subjected to a quick grope, a teasing smile. Just enough to let him know he won’t be spared forever. Just enough to keep him up, tensed, waiting.

The creak of the door sends a jolt of icy, paralyzing fear through him, as it always does. There is never any warning, no footsteps in the hall, no murmur of Euron’s voice. Just that sound, a scream really, an echo of the wind, shattering the quiet of their bedchamber. And then Euron is there.

Aeron stays perfectly still, head turned to the wall, eyes closed. As if pretending to be asleep will help.

This night, Euron goes straight to Urri’s bed. Aeron hears his soft footsteps cross the room, the slight sound of Urri’s bed giving way as Euron sits. He speaks softly to Urri, the words too quiet to make out. Aeron lies there, trying not to listen, willing himself to ignore it when the speech ends and other sounds take over.

They don’t, though, not tonight. Euron stops talking, then there are the quiet steps again, and then Euron is there on his bed, leaning over him, close enough that Aeron can feel the warmth from his body. Aeron is not breathing anymore, every muscle in him tensed, listening, waiting. Euron lays his hand on Aeron’s back—it’s _cold,_ Euron’s hands are always cold somehow—and Aeron can’t stop himself, his eyes fly open and he makes a little gasp of fear.

Euron laughs softly. “Mmm, I thought you were awake.” He pulls at Aeron’s shoulder, and Aeron rolls over. There is no point in resisting now.

Euron smiles down at him. His hand moves to cup Aeron’s head. “You know, Aeron,” he says, his voice like silk. “I feel that I’ve been neglecting you.” Aeron can smell the drink on his breath. He does not slur his words, though; he never does. “You must forgive me. It’s just that I can’t resist Urri. Surely you can understand that, for you love him as well as I do, no?” The hand that was threading through Aeron’s hair trails down his chest, lightly, raising gooseprickles as it goes. _Don’t cry out,_ he tells himself. _Don’t move. That will only make it worse._

“Still,” Euron continues, smiling as ever. “I fear I’ve been missing out. For you and I could have such pleasure together. Don’t you agree?” A chill creeps through him, following Euron’s hand down his body, into his stomach, towards—towards…

Later, Aeron will think that it was his fault. For Euron was sitting on the bed with his back to Urri. He could not have seen. He could not have known.

But Aeron sees. He sees Urri sneak out of bed and creep across the room, silent on his bare feet. He sees the knife—a gift from Father for his last name day—in Urri’s hand. And his face betrays him, it must, because Euron stops and goes still, just half an instant before Urri draws his knife back, saying, “You leave him alo—”

And then everything happens in an instant.

Euron spins, swings at Urri with a fist, and Urri is on the ground, clutching his eye, and Euron has somehow got hold of the knife, and then he’s pulled Aeron up and is sitting on the bed behind him, pinning Aeron’s arms behind his back, one arm wrapped around his chest.

It’s a posture that could almost be tender, almost protective, were it not for the cold blade pressed against his neck.

“Try that again and I’ll slit his throat,” Euron says to Urri, and there is no laughter in his voice now.

Aeron does not doubt for one moment that Euron would do it.

Urri stares back at Euron, defiant, hatred blazing in his exposed eye. Aeron sits perfectly still, trying not to breathe, trying not to think about the knife at his throat and the feeling of Euron wrapped around him.

Then Euron presses the knife in until it hurts, until Aeron is sure it must break the skin. And all at once, the fight goes out of Urri. The defiance melts away and he shrinks back into himself, chastened. 

Aeron does not blame him. He knows he would do the same.

He feels a breath released against his neck, and knows Euron is smiling now.

“Or perhaps I won’t,” he says, his voice light again, a mockery of affection. “I couldn’t bear to lose sweet Aeron. Perhaps I’ll just take something—his tongue? Or a few fingers, surely he doesn’t need all ten.”

Euron shifts behind him, and there it is—his brother’s cock, hard against his back. He cries out, and loathes how it sounds, pitiful, like a frightened kitten.

Euron chuckles. “You don’t need to protect him, Urri. He wants it just as much as you do.” He leans down and his breath is hot against Aeron’s ear. “Don’t you?” he murmurs.

Aeron cannot bring himself to respond. Euron waits a moment, says, “Don’t you?” again, louder this time, more insistent. When Aeron is still silent, Euron removes the knife from his throat, slips it into his belt. But that is no reprieve, because he then takes hold of Aeron’s wrist and starts bending it back, farther, farther, until Aeron is sure he will break his arm. He does not let himself cry out again, but he can’t stop his face from twisting in pain.

Urri watches, looking anguished. “Gods, just say it!” he cries. 

Finally, the pain is too great, and the words escape him. “Yes,” he gasps. “I do.”

“You do what?” Euron says, low, still forcing his arm back.

“I want it.” And the pain stops, and he takes a shuddering breath, flooded with relief and shame all at once.

_I am not fit to be Ironborn,_ he thinks. _I am not fit to live. I should throw myself into the sea._

He knows he won’t, though. He is not even brave enough to do that.

“I knew it,” Euron says. “You see, Urri? You have nothing to worry about.” He pulls Aeron in closer to him, so they’re pressed together, back to chest. Then he leans down and presses his lips to Aeron’s neck, warm, tender. Aeron can see the revulsion on Urri’s face. His stomach turns over.

“Go to bed, Urri,” Euron says softly, with no hint of force in his voice, like it’s just a friendly suggestion.

Aeron watches Urri slowly get up. Their eyes meet for a moment, Urri’s full of shame. Then he backs across the room to his bed and crawls under the covers, facing away from them, just as Aeron does when it is Urri under Euron’s hand.

And then it is just him and Euron and the wind, in the dark.

“Don’t worry,” Euron says as he pushes him to lie down—gently, so gently, that is the worst part. “I won’t hurt you.” He stretches out on top of Aeron, lean and hard, his smiling eye gleaming.

Outside, the wind screams its pain, but Aeron is still and silent. Euron’s voice is hot against his ear.

“Just remember. Your tongue is mine. Your fingers are mine. You’re mine.”

The next day, left to their own devices as usual, he and Urri wander down to the shore. The docks are in their typical chaos, captains shouting orders, fishermen hawking the morning’s catch, gulls wheeling and screaming overhead. But there is a little cove around a bend in the shoreline, past a fall of boulders and a copse of soldier pines, where the only sound is the waves lapping at the pebbly shore. Neither of them suggests where to go, but that is where they end up, as naturally as if there were no other option.

And maybe there isn’t, really. For this has been their place for years now—the only place that is just _theirs._

They sit together on a boulder by the shore. The sky is overcast as ever, but the wind has died down and the sea is calm in their little cove. It’s as pleasant as the Islands ever get; you would never guess what it was like the night before. Urri pulls off his boots and dips his toes in the water. Aeron does the same. The water is cold, and the salt gets in a cut on his foot. It stings, sharp.

The pain summons Euron into his mind. The little noise of concern as they broke their fast with Father this morning, pretending to be surprised by Urri’s black eye. _What happened to you? Fighting with Aeron again?_ Urri nodding stiffly, Euron laughing and shaking his head. _You must not do that to him, Aeron. After all, it is a terrible thing for brothers to hurt each other._ Looking right at Aeron as he said it, his smile sharp as steel. 

“I’m going to kill him,” Aeron blurts out.

Urri pulls his feet out of the water, whips around. _“What?”_

Aeron hadn’t even thought it before speaking, but now that the idea is out there, in the air between them, he _wants_ it. “I will,” he says, nodding. “I’ll get a—a knife or something. The next time he—…I won’t let him, I’ll—”

“ _No.”_ Urri grabs his arm, hard, and pulls so they’re face to face. “Aeron, listen to me. Don’t do anything to him. Don’t. Aeron, he’ll kill you.”

_It would be worth it,_ he almost says. But he looks at Urri, at the bruise shining around his eye, at the way he’s looking at him, desperate, imploring. Urri’s fingers dig into his wrist, still sore from where Euron forced it back. But Urri’s hand is warm.

“Fine,” he says, finally.

Urri lets out a breath, releases his arm, nods. He looks down. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I wanted to—I thought I could…”

Aeron can’t quite bring himself to say, _it’s alright._ But he shakes his head.

Urri turns away, bends down and picks up a stone. Aeron doesn’t know what he is going to do with it. Sometimes, when the sea is still, they try skipping them across the bay. Other times they throw them at each other, practicing for the finger dance.

Urri does neither. Instead, he hurls the rock far out into the sea. There is something savage in the motion, in the ragged way he breathes after. Aeron picks up a rock of his own and does the same. He’s surprised by how good it feels, so he does it again, and again, and again, mirroring his brother beside him.

There is nothing else to do, so they stay there for a long time, side by side, throwing rocks at the waves as hard as they can. The only sound is the _plunk, plunk, plunk,_ as they sink into the sea. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I've been having lots of Aeron feelings lately and for whatever reason this is how I choose to express them...
> 
> If you enjoyed, kudos and comments make me very happy :)


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